Settling
by gpotter
Summary: Prequel to 'No Regrets'. Explains why a rift has grown between Ron and Hermione, causing her to turn to someone else.


Settling  
  
Title: Settling Author: gpotter Summary: Backstory to 'No Regrets'. What happened to cause a rift between Ron and Hermione, not to be repaired until the eve of her wedding? Rating: PG13  
  
A/N — Thanks to some new reviews left for 'No Regrets' I've decided to make a prequel explaining why Hermione chose Dean to marry and why there was a separation of Ron and Hermione. Thanks to Mandy of the Amoeba and A-is-for- Amy for suggesting that the story needs more explanation. Within this story there are little excerpts from 'No Regrets', so if you haven't read that story the passages that are bolded and italicized are those . . . they're the ones that talk about Ron's shirt and the rock-throwing. Enjoy!!  
  
The evening air was filled with the scent of pine needles and the snow blended to form the perfect aroma. The atmosphere couldn't have been more perfect. She still remembers the day that it happened . . . . the day that the image she held of Ron would be forever changed in her knowledge- filled mind. It was seventh year when their relationship was cemented. Seventh year when he made her his for life . . . or so they thought.  
  
"Hermione?"  
  
She was sitting on a bench outside in the courtyard when she heard him call her. She turned around and saw him standing before her, and she had to crane her neck a bit to meet his blue eyes so high up. He really had grown quite tall.  
  
"Yes, Ron? What is it?"  
  
He didn't answer her, just sat down. "N — Nothing really. Just wanted to see where you'd got off to."  
  
"Oh, well . . . I'm right here."  
  
"Yeah, suppose I've found you," he answered nervously.  
  
"What's up?" Hermione asked. She knew Ron well, and right now she could tell that he was trying to get something important out in the open.  
  
"This is going to sound so bloody cheesy — but I guess I ought to just say it, huh?" Ron grinned, showing off his perfect white smile.  
  
"Yes, you should," Hermione agreed. Her stomach did a bit of a flop when he reached over to touch her hand.  
  
"You know, when I first met you I didn't like you at all. Thought you were mental, in fact. But," he added quickly when Hermione's brow furrowed, "I was stupid to do that. To judge you just because you were intelligent, to think that you were an insufferable know-it-all. Granted, you could still be like that sometimes, but it makes me — love — you all the more."  
  
Hermione's mouth opened in shock, and Ron found himself starting at her perfectly pink lips, slightly chapped from the cold. Her red and gold striped scarf was wrapped around her neck, serving to protect her from the frigid temperatures, and her hair was held back with a clip at the base of her neck. He would never forget that image of her. Never.  
  
"I — You — Love," was all Hermione could manage to say.  
  
"Yes, I love you. There, wasn't so hard was it?" he seemed to be talking to himself.  
  
Regaining some of her composure, Hermione closed her mouth and stood up. When Ron looked up at her, confusion written clearly on his freckled face, she smiled and extended her gloved hand for him to take. He did, and as soon as he felt their hands connect he felt that something in him was complete . . . that he had everything he would ever want within that palm of his hand. So much for a little fun, he thought. He stood up and she pressed herself closer to him. "I can't believe you were the first one to say something. Do you know how long I've been waiting to hear that from your mouth?"  
  
"Almost as long as I've been waiting to do this," he whispered huskily, then bent down to cover her mouth with his own in a searing kiss.  
  
Hermione gasped when she pulled away, all reason dissolving from her mind with that one kiss. Without even thinking about what she was doing, she took Ron by the hand and led him quietly into the castle, up the stairs, into the Gryffindor common room, and after having a brief look round to determine if anyone else was there (there wasn't) into the girls dorms.  
  
They were seventeen year olds, and lust replaced logic in their minds once they were finally alone. Hermione performed a quick contraceptive charm on herself and locked the door with magic to make sure they wouldn't be interrupted. She walked over to him after doing that, and lifted his shirt off of him, a blush creeping up her cheeks, already red from being outside. Ron placed a hand on either cheek and smiled into her eyes, making sure she knew that there was nothing to be embarrassed about. "I love you, 'Mione. Whatever happens, I will always love you."  
  
"I know . . . me too."  
  
Ron wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her again, moving the both of them toward the bed. They didn't leave the dorm room until the next morning.  
  
Bright yellow shafts of sunlight filtered through the red and gold curtains of the window beside Hermione's bed. She rolled over and saw Ron laying beside her, red hair a fringe over his forehead. Her face lit up into a smile, and for once in her life, she felt . . . truly happy. Not that she'd never been happy before, but there had always been something missing. And now, she felt as if she'd finally found it.  
  
She reached over and placed her hand on his chest, delighting in how smooth and muscled it felt underneath her fingers. He opened his ocean- blue eyes at her touch and grinned down at her. "Having another go, are we?"  
  
She lightly slapped his shoulder in reproach. "Ron!"  
  
"Well, I don't blame you. Must be hard to resist."  
  
"A little cocky, are we?"  
  
"Not cocky . . . just confident," he insisted. "Don't you think we'd better get going? If you haven't noticed, nobody came in here to sleep last night thanks to your locking charm on the door. I'm betting they're not happy about that."  
  
"Really? Did you hear any knocking?" Hermione asked a bit worriedly.  
  
"No, but then again, we never actually had the opportunity to do much besides — "  
  
"Ron! Enough!" Hermione squealed, kissing him before standing up and throwing his black tee-shirt on, the one he'd been wearing the night before.  
  
Hermione opened her door and turned the light on, removing her winter  
clothing.  
Ron observed her and said, "My shirt."  
  
She flushed and murmured, "Yes . . . I sleep in it sometimes, but you can  
have it back if you want — "  
  
"No . . . no it's okay. It looks better on you."   
  
The two of them walked to the door and tentatively opened it, Hermione peeking her head out first. Lavender and Parvati were sleeping on either of the two couches, and Harry was sleeping sitting up in a chair by the fire, Ginny on the floor with her head resting against his legs.  
  
"Know what, 'Mione? I think they were waiting for us to come out so they could get all the sordid details," noted Ron.  
  
"Shh!" Hermione scolded, holding her finger to her lips. "Do not wake them up!"  
  
"Okay, let's go get some breakfast," he took her hand and tiptoed out the door. They both breathed a sigh of relief when they made it out without anyone waking. By the time anybody had come downstairs for breakfast, Ron and Hermione were off having a walk on the grounds, trying to avoid embarrassing questions.  
  
"I'm going to go get us some blankets, I'll be right back," Ron excused himself, once the two of them were settled in a nice private niche near the forest. He had noticed Hermione shivering, and wasn't all that warm himself.  
  
"Mmm-hmm," she mumbled, watching him sprint off back to the castle.  
  
She sat in a comfortable silence for a while until she heard a voice call from behind her, "Well well well, if it isn't Mrs. Weasel herself."  
  
"Oh, shut it, Malfoy," she sighed, refusing to let him burst her bubble of happiness.  
  
"Snippy today, aren't we? I was just trying to give you a bit of information you might find — interesting," he said in a slippery voice.  
  
"What are you on about?" Hermione asked warily, standing up and facing him defiantly.  
  
Draco just smirked and held up a piece of parchment. "Know what I've got here?"  
  
"No, and I don't particularly care to," she growled, turning away to go and find Ron.  
  
"It's about your little — escapades — last night," Malfoy taunted.  
  
Hermione froze where she stood. How could he possibly know about last night? Nobody could have . . . "Let me see it."  
  
"Oooh, change of heart?"  
  
She whipped round and snatched it from his hand before he could wave it in her face any longer. It was an ordinary piece of parchment with two different sets of handwriting on it, one clearly Ron's. There was no way she could mistake his half print, half script, loopy sort of writing. The other she recognized as Dean's. It was obviously a note written back and forth in class, it was dated December 14th, exactly a week earlier. Ron had initiated it:  
  
Hey, what's up?  
  
Nothing, what about you? I heard about you and Parvati . . . what's going on?  
  
What did you hear? Nothing's going on, we just went out the other night and had some fun.  
  
What about 'Mione?  
  
What about her?  
  
I just thought that you two . . .  
  
You know we're not.  
  
Fine, but I heard her talking to Lavender about you the other day.  
She was talking about how much she loves you and how you're never  
going to find out.  
  
Really? That's strange . . .  
  
It's not, you should know b y now how much she really loves you. Don't screw around with her, Ron.  
  
Who are you to tell me what or what not to do with her? Besides, I don't really LOVE her, y'know?  
  
Well if you don't, please don't make her think you do.  
  
Why are you telling me this? It's none of your business, I'll do what  
I want about her. She's been my friend forever, we're entitled to a  
little fun now and then. Besides, things aren't going far with us.  
Next week, you'll find out. We're only going to have fun, nothing  
serious.  
  
If you say so. Don't hurt her.  
  
Bloody hell, you're acting as if you're in love with her.  
  
I —  
  
Here the note ended, and Hermione's hands were shaking. Was that all she was to Ron, a bit of fun and nothing serious? Just a fling? She didn't believe it, after all they'd gone through together . . . She looked up at Malfoy through rage-filled eyes.  
  
Sensing that messing with her at the moment could result in permanent damage, he backed away slowly and took off at a run toward the castle, tripping in his haste to get away. Hermione clutched the note so tightly she was afraid it would rip, but that's exactly what she wanted to do with it. Rip it up into tiny pieces and throw it into the wind.  
  
"Hey, was that Malfoy I saw running away like a scared little boy? Way to go, what did you do to him?" It was Ron.  
  
Hermione turned to him and fumed, "How could you?!"  
  
He was so taken aback by the hate in her eyes that he dropped the two blankets and thermos of cider he'd been holding and moved toward her. "How could I what?" he asked gently.  
  
She shoved the note at him and he took it. He read through it quickly, and his face turned a pale shade of green. "'Mione, you've got to listen to me — "  
  
"So you admit that you wrote that?"  
  
Ron was silent. It was all Hermione needed to tell her what she wanted to know. "I didn't mean it — "  
  
"No, what I think you didn't mean was all the things you told me last night. I trusted you, Ron. You were my first, and I thought that meant something to you!" Tears were falling down Hermione's flaming cheeks as she screamed at Ron. He tried to bring her into his arms, but she pushed him away and ran. She didn't know where she was going, but she knew she had to get out of his presence.  
  
Ron was left behind. He kicked a tree with all his strength, trying to let out some of the anger building up inside. At him, for even thinking those things in the first place, and at Malfoy because he knew that he had given the note to Hermione. Things had been so perfect before he had to screw things up, before he nosed into their business. Ron wished so hard that he could go back in time and change what he'd written, but there was no doing that. He'd just have to own up to it, and apologize like a man would.  
  
Meanwhile, Hermione kept running until she unintentionally collided with something solid. She looked up through blurry eyes to see that she'd run smack into Dean, the second party involved in Ron's letter.  
  
"Hermione? What's wrong?" he asked with concern.  
  
She just shook her head and allowed him to hug her tightly. He wasn't as tall as Ron, but she still only came up to his chin. It felt good to be in somebody's arms, somebody who clearly cared for her. He was rubbing her back in slow circles, and she cried into his shoulder, thinking about the kind words she'd read from him.  
  
"Thank you," she mumbled into his shirt.  
  
"For what?" Dean took hold of her shoulders and pushed her back a bit so he could look at her face. Her brown hair was tangled and stuck to the wetness on her cheeks, her brown eyes glittering with tears.  
  
"For trying to stop Ron from playing games with me," she said quietly, her heart breaking a little more at saying the words aloud for herself.  
  
"Oh, 'Mione, he didn't . . . "  
  
She just nodded and buried her face in his chest again, trying not to think about how he didn't smell like Ron, he didn't feel like him — he just wasn't Ron. Too bad, Ron's not going to love you like Dean plainly does, a little voice told Hermione. Another one argued, But Ron is Ron, and how are you going to replace that?  
  
She shook her head, and allowed Dean to lead her inside the castle and up to her room. He waved to Lavender, Parvati, Harry and Ginny to stay where they were when he brought her into the Gryffindor common room as they looked on with confused and curious faces from their perches around the room. Hermione mumbled the password between sobs and he brought her inside, depositing her on the bed tenderly. He gave her a blanket and a box of tissues before asking if she needed anything else. She nodded her head in the negative, so he hugged her and kissed her forehead, then left her to work out her feelings of ambivalence concerning Ron.  
  
Hermione heard something go 'clink' against her window and her heart soared beyond reason. She remembered that during their 7th year, when she and Ron had argued, he would always throw pebbles at her window to get her to talk  
to him; she never told him that it was such a Muggle cliché.  
  
A rock hit Hermione's window much later that day. She ignored it, knowing it was Ron. She had nothing to say to him.  
  
A muffled voice was heard from outside yelling, "Bloody hell, 'Mione, let me in so I can at least explain!"  
  
Tears welled in her eyes again, but she wiped them away before they could fall. It hurt more than anything she'd ever had to do to ignore his pleadings. Somewhere she knew that she should be reasonable and let him talk to her, but the emotional part of her was just too hurt to allow that to happen.  
  
She went to the window and opened it. "Leave me alone!"  
  
Ron stood in the snow, shocked. She'd never yelled at him with such hate and anger in her voice before, and it was unsettling. Nevertheless, he realized that he'd better do as told and leave her alone. He walked off morosely, hands in pockets. That was the last time he threw rocks at her window for a long time . . .  
  
From then on, things were never the same between them. There was a tension so thick that nobody could stand to be around when the two of them were in the same room. After graduation, there was an excuse for losing touch, and Ron and Hermione grabbed at it with both hands. Eventually, Hermione accepted Dean into her life as a Ron-substitute, even though she knew that he'd never fill his shoes, or the void left by his betrayal. She settled, is what she did. It wasn't fair to Dean, and Hermione knew it, but settling isn't supposed to be fair to anyone involved. Settling hurts, but sometimes it's all you can do. It wasn't until Dean proposed, and the eve of her wedding fell that Ron and Hermione met again . . . 


End file.
